


Stars, Flowers and Bugs

by ViimaTheFailcat



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Awkwardness, Childhood Friends, Fluff, M/M, Pining, maybe a little ooc as i try to figure them out as i write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViimaTheFailcat/pseuds/ViimaTheFailcat
Summary: After disbanding Team Skull and starting training under Hala, Guzma is turning a new leaf. He gets unexpected assistance from his childhood friend Molayne, who seems to want something more than just friendship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by this comic: http://dietcloud.tumblr.com/post/154458049294/post-skull-guzma-with-childhood-friend-molayne
> 
> I also have no idea how to write Guzma.
> 
> I might revise the summary if I come up with something better.
> 
> I literally have no idea what I'm doing with this fic. Bear with me.

Guzma still wasn’t sure how he had ended up on a definitely-not-a-date-we-are-just-childhood-friends-reconnecting with Molayne, even when the clock was nearing midnight and Molayne was starting the I-had-a-nice-time talk.

 

“It’s been a long time,” Molayne said.

 

“‘bout five years,” Guzma grunted.

 

“Yeah… Kukui would’ve liked catching up with you too,” Molayne said, making Guzma cringe. The ex-Skull boss had lost count on how many times Molayne had mentioned the professor and it pissed him off to no end for some reason.

 

“I… I really had a nice time,” Molayne continued, unaware of Guzma’s irritation, “You, me…” Molayne’s voice turned… What was that tone anyway? All soft and… dreamy. Tender. “And your ankle monitor,” Molayne continued, voice turning a touch embarrassed, “And Nanu… who’s been following us… because you’re still on probation.” Molayne gave a short, uncomfortable laugh.

 

Guzma flinched. Nanu was  _ still  _ following them?! Go home, you cat-loving freak!

 

He rubbed his arm and grunted a laugh too. “Ah… Well, yaknow. Some girls are into that,” he said and immediately regretted it.  _ Some girls?! _ What the hell was wrong with him??

 

“Probably,” Molayne laughed, a little more relaxed now, “But I’m serious!” There was a warm weight on Guzma’s shoulders as Molayne wrapped his coat around Guzma, probably having misinterpreted Guzma’s arm rubbing for coldness.

 

“It’s hard for me to connect with people,” Molayne said, rubbing the back of his neck. It was hard to tell with the low light, but Guzma could’ve sworn his cheeks were flushing a little. “I feel like it might difficult for you too, and that’s why it’s easy to talk to you.”

 

Guzma clutched the coat, the smell of Molayne’s cologne still clinging on to it tickling his nose.

 

Molayne continued talking: “I know we don’t have a lot in common, but um... I know what it’s like to want to be the best even with how far you’ve come and how it almost feels unfair to still want more… I thought running the PC system in Alola would make it less lonely in my life.” Molayne seemed to realize he was rambling and he ended: “So regardless of the circumstance, I had a really good time... I hope we can do this again…”

 

Molayne turned to look at Guzma and his tone was back to the soft tenderness and Guzma felt heat rush from his chest up to his face.

 

There was a moment of silence as Guzma just stared at Molayne’s shy smile, brain desperately searching for something to say. Guzma turned away and ruffled his hair violently, hoping that that would shake some words loose, but when none came, he froze.

 

“Is… that a no?” he heard Molayne ask hesitantly.

 

That snapped Guzma back to the reality, making him also realize that he still hasn’t said a thing and that the silence was growing uncomfortably long. So Guzma’s instincts made him do the logical thing. 

 

Which was do what his Golisopod does and run the fuck off.

 

Later Nanu found him in front of Po Town police station in a squat and a sulk of epic proportions.

 

“That could’ve gone better,” he said dryly.

 

Guzma let out a long groan in reply.

 

Guzma heard a click of a lighter as Nanu lit a cigarette. “Want one?” he asked. The humour of getting an offer like that from the officer who used to lecture him for smoking while underage didn’t escape Guzma.

 

“Sure,” Guzma grunted.

 

Nanu sat down next to him and held a carton out for him. Guzma fished out a stick and Nanu lit it for him.

 

“This takes me back to my first crush,” Nanu said, sounding actually nostalgic, “I did almost the exact same as you did. But at least I didn’t steal his coat.”

 

Guzma jumped. He still had the coat?? Sure enough, it was still hanging on his shoulders. He groaned.

 

“I can take it back for you,” Nanu said.

 

Guzma squeezed the fabric in his hands, still smelling Molayne on it. “Naw. I’ll take it to him tomorrow,” he said.

 

Nanu blew out a cloud of smoke. “Suit yourself,” he said.

 

***

The next morning (or afternoon) Guzma (and Nanu, much to Guzma’s grief) paged a Charizard Glide to go to the Hokulani observatory. When Guzma approached the receptionist, he was greeted with a disgusted look.

  
“Ay yo, is Molayne free?” he asked, ignoring the sneer on the receptionist’s face.

“He’s busy at the moment,” the receptionist said, not even checking her laptop.

Guzma frowned and Nanu stepped to the counter. “Not too busy for the kahuna, I hope?”

The receptionist blinked, eyes suddenly wide. She hadn’t noticed Nanu, it seemed. “Oh, um.” She hastily tapped at her laptop. “He… he might have a moment for you.”

“Good,” Nanu said and walked past her without giving her a second glance. Guzma followed him, throwing a last victorious glance at the receptionist. A few months ago he would have flipper her off too, but now he resisted the urge.

With a little searching Nanu and Guzma found Molayne’s office (do observatories even have offices? Who gives a shit?). Nanu paused at the door and motioned Guzma to go in.

Guzma swallowed thickly and knocked on the door. When he didn’t get and answer, he knocked again, louder.

Still no answer.

Guzma grunted a curse and opened the door. “Yo Molayne, I got yo-”

The room was empty.

“The hell?” Guzma groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Nanu asked.

“He ain’t here!”

Nanu hummed. “Should have asked the receptionist where he is.”

“Nanu? What are you doing here?” The familiar voice made Guzma freeze.

Molayne.

Nanu gave a dry laugh. “Delivery of stolen goods.”

“What?” Molayne sounded confused and slightly worried.

Guzma stepped out of the office and back to the corridor, lifting the coat sheepishly.

The worry melted away from Molayne’s face and he gave a surprised smile. “Guzma, hi,” he breathed.

Guzma cleared his throat while Nanu slipped away. “Sorry about last night. I just… remembered something important,” Guzma coughed and didn’t meet Molayne’s eyes.

Molayne chuckled and took his coat back. “I understand,” he said, sounding like he completely didn’t believe Guzma, “I get that too sometimes.” He folded the coat on his arms but didn’t pull it on. “I… really enjoyed myself last night. Would you… I mean, I’d like to do it again sometime…”

Guzma rubbed his neck. “Y-yeah, sounds good,” he said, desperately trying to play it cool.

There was a moment of silence before Molayne spoke up again: “Are you free on this Friday?”

“I can be,” Guzma said. He would have to ask Hala if he had training on Friday.

Molayne smiled and Guzma’s whole torso felt like it was being squeezed. “Good. I… I’ll pick you up at the front of Po Town at… eight? Is 8PM good? Remember to tell Nanu about this.”

Guzma just gaped and nodded speechlessly.

“Good,” Molayne repeated, “I’ll… see you then.”

Guzma just nodded numbly and shuffled off without a word. Again. At least he didn’t steal Molayne’s coat again.

Nanu was waiting for him at the reception area. “How’d it go?”

“I’ll meet him on Friday,” Guzma muttered.

Nanu nodded. “Try not to steal his coat next time.”

  
Guzma punched his arm. “Fuck off.”


	2. Chapter 2

Friday rolled around faster than Guzma liked, and 8PM came even faster.

 

It was 7:45PM and Guzma’s nerves were making his stomach roll in uncomfortable circles.

 

Guzma was planning to leave quietly without telling the grunts, but he was spotted as he was about to leave the manor.

 

“Ey boss, where you going?”

 

“This late too?”

 

“What about your probation, boss?”

 

“Does Nanu know?”

 

“What are y’all, my mom?” Guzma barked, “I’m going out, who gives a shit?”

 

“They’re just worried,” Plumeria piped up from the top of the stairs, “ _ Somebody _ has to think about your probation, because you apparently aren’t.”

 

Guzma drew a breath to tell her to shut the hell up and mind her own business, but when he saw her genuinely worried expression, he let the breath roll back out. “Nanu knows about this and he greenlighted this, okay?”

 

Plumeria nodded. “That’s all I needed to know. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

Guzma tried to smile, but all he could manage was a grimace. “You got it Plums.”

 

“Bye, boss!”

 

“Have fun, boss!”

 

“Don’t get arrested, boss!”

 

Guzma just grunted and waved a hand at them before leaving.

 

Molayne was waiting for him, fidgeting his necklace under a streetlight. When he noticed Guzma approaching, he smiled widely, making Guzma’s chest squeeze.

 

“Hello. I’m glad you could make it,” Molayne said, walking to Guzma.

 

For a moment irritation rose in Guzma’s chest. Was he implying Guzma would’ve wimped out and not shown up? He drew a sharp breath, but faced with Molayne’s smile (like he was genuinely happy to see Guzma?) the fight left him.

 

“I mean… you came all the way here,” Guzma said instead, feeling slightly deflated, “to pick me up.”

 

Molayne’s smile shrank a little and Guzma felt like it wasn’t the right thing to say.

 

“...Right,” Molayne said quietly, then perking up and fixing the smile back onto his face. “Shall we?”

 

Guzma nodded and the two started walking. Guzma was glancing around to catch a glimpse of Nanu shadowing them again. And sure enough, the kahuna was walking behind them with another Tapu-damn meowth on his shoulders.

 

Guzma made an irritated sound. When would Nanu get it through his skull that big bad Guzma doesn’t need a chaperone? Or that there was nothing to chaperone about anyway?? This wasn’t a date!

 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Molayne asked.

 

Guzma was quiet for a long time. He hadn’t expected that question for some reason. “The… the stars,” he blurted, “I want you to show me your favourite star.”

 

Molayne blinked and his cheeks flared up with color. “A-at the observatory or…?”

 

Guzma realized how  _ sappy  _ and  _ mushy  _ he had sounded just now. “S-sure.”

 

Molayne looked at the ground and smiled shyly, making Guzma’s stomach do flips. “I didn’t know you’d be interested in that.”

 

Guzma shrugged. “It interests you, right? It’s your job.”

 

Molayne’s smile widens a little. “It is.” His hand brushes against Guzma’s arm and pulls away, leaving Guzma’s skin tingling in its wake.

 

The two arrive at the observatory and Molayne unlocks the door for them. 

 

The observatory was empty of people. Everyone had gone home or to the nearest restaurant or bar to party the night away. Which was fine by Guzma. At least he didn’t have to tolerate the snooty receptionist and her judgemental gaze again. But since the place was so devoid of people, it was also devoid of life. The echoing, empty darkness could have been described as creepy if Guzma was easily spooked. Which he wasn’t.

 

Guzma had almost passed the now empty reception desk before he realizes Molayne wasn’t following. He turned and saw that Molayne was waiting for Nanu to come in too. Guzma grunted. No privacy, even in the observatory. Not that they would  _ need _ it, though.

 

This wasn’t a date.

 

“I’ll wait here,” Nanu said, sitting down at the reception area.

 

“Okay. Feel free to come get us when you want to go,” Molayne said, which Guzma immediately wanted to rebute.

 

Nanu just waved his hand and dug his phone from his pocket.

 

Molayne turned to Guzma. “This way.” He lead Guzma to the room with the glass roof and the huge telescope, whatever the fuck was that called.

 

Molayne opened the metal cover shielding the glass roof and started fiddling with the telescope. “This might take a while,” he said, lifting his glasses to his forehead.

 

“No rush,” Guzma muttered.

 

There was a moment of silence before Molayne started explaining what he was doing with the telescope. All of that went well over Guzma’s head, but oddly he didn’t mind. He liked listening to Molayne talk.

 

“...that brings me to what you asked,” Molayne said, “to my… to my favorite star.” He stepped back from the telescope and motioned Guzma to take a look. What he saw were just white dots on the never ending black void of space.

 

“That star is just a regular, average-sized yellow star that doesn’t belong in any constellation,” Molayne explained.

 

Guzma pulled away from the telescope to give him a confused look. “Why’s it your favorite, then?”

 

Molayne blushed and looked down, fiddling with his necklace. “It’s… it’s called GZM-4.”

 

Guzma rolled the letters in his head for a little before he got it. “Holy shit,” he muttered, heat coloring his cheeks as well.

 

Molayne shifted and started moving the telescope. “Th-there’s more interesting stuff up there too,” he said. He ended up showing Guzma a star that was going to die in the next thousand years and another star that was born “just” 3000 years ago.

 

“Kalosian legends say that star appeared after the king fired the Ultimate Weapon and ended the war,” Molayne lectured.

 

“The what,” Guzma said, pulling back from the telescope to give Molayne a confused look.

 

“The… the Ultimate Weapon?”

 

“Never heard of it.”

 

Molayne blinked. “Oh. That’s… kind of a major event in Kalosian history.”

 

Guzma shrugged. “History always was one of my weak subjects.” Along with math and English and science and…

 

Molayne smiled crookedly. “Ah, well. In that case…” He changed the subject and showed Guzma some nebulas.

 

There was a lull in the conversation when Molayne ran out of things to explain. The silence was comfortable as Guzma stared at the colours swirling in space.

 

“You… you would tell me to back off if I was making you uncomfortable, right?” Molayne suddenly asked.

 

Guzma turned to look at him. “Whuh?”

 

“I mean…” Molayne stuttered, “Earlier you… kinda felt like you didn’t feel like coming…”

 

Guzma flinched. Shit.

 

“I just want you to know that you can tell me to back off if you think I’m coming off too strongly,” Molayne muttered, twisting his hands.

 

Guzma stared at him. “I… Yeah? Of course I know that? It wouldn’t be a good friendship if I can’t tell a dude to fuck off.”

 

Molayne’s face fell. “F-friendship…”

 

Blood froze in Guzma’s veins. “Th-that’s what this is, right?”

 

Molayne smiled, but his face was so pained that it looked more like a grimace. “I thought I was obvious with my intents…” He blinked and his eyes were shining with tears.

 

Guzma twitched and hoped to the Tapus that Molayne wouldn’t start crying.

 

Molayne rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply. “It’s… fine. It’s okay. I can see you don’t… feel the same.”

 

Guzma scrambled for words, having no idea what was going on anymore. “Feel like what?!”

 

Molayne froze for a moment. His lips moved without a sound before he blurted: “I am in love with you.”

 

Guzma stared at him.

 

“Have been since we were teens,” Molayne said quietly, voice breaking.

 

“I… I had no idea,” Guzma managed to mumble, voice hoarse.

 

Molayne barked a laugh. “I don’t blame you. You had a lot going on and I… I didn’t act on it because I didn’t want to burden you. And then you went off and made Team Skull… I was devastated.” Molayne sniffed and rubbed his eyes. “I thought I’d at least have Kukui, but… he married Burnet…” Molayne’s voice broke and.. yep, he was crying.

 

Shit shit shit shit shit  _ shit _ !!!

 

Guzma has no idea what to say or do. He was usually the one  _ making  _ people cry, not making them  _ stop  _ crying. So he patted Molayne on the shoulder awkwardly.

 

Molayne hiccuped and rubbed his face onto his sleeve. “Sorry… I didn’t mean to…” He lowered his hands from his face, letting Guzma finally see his flushed cheeks. Molayne attempted to smile, but it didn’t have the energy to reach his eyes. 

 

Guzma’s chest felt weird.

 

“I ruined the mood, didn’t I?” Molayne muttered.

 

“N-no, that’s… It’s okay, you…  It’s… it’s been a while, right?”

 

Molayne sighed. “You’re right, I should get over it alr-”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Guzma interrupted, “You’ve been having these… feelings for a long time. Or something.”

 

Molayne was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I guess I have…”

 

Guzma didn’t know where to go from there, so he pulled Molayne in a awkward and stiff hug. Molayne froze for a second before he melted against Guzma and hugged him back.

 

“I assumed you at least knew what I was after,” Molayne muttered.

 

Guzma huffed a laugh. “You shoulda known that ya boy has the thickest skull around.”

 

Molayne giggled, the sound resonating to Guzma’s chest after which a silence fell again. It broke when Molayne pulled away from Guzma with a sigh.

  
“So…” he said quietly, “now you know how I feel about you. I’m not telling you to decide anything now, but… if you don’t… feel the same, if you don’t want to continue...  _ this _ ,” he motioned vaguely between them, “please tell me.”

 

Guzma felt a flip in his stomach. “I… I have no fucking clue what I feel right now,” he murmured.

 

“It’s okay,” Molayne said, voice still hushed, “Take your time.”

 

Guzma chewed his lip in thought. “I wouldn’t mind continuing with these… meetings. Y’know, for to… help figure out. Y’know.”

 

Molayne smiled hesitantly. “Okay. Yeah, that… that sounds nice.”

 

“Next Friday again?” Guzma asked.

 

“Sure.” Molayne’s smile grew less hesitant and Guzma’s chest felt warm again.

 

The two decided to call it a night and Guzma left the observatory with Nanu.

 

“How’d it go?” Nanu asked.

 

“I’m meeting him again next Friday.”

 

Nanu hummed. “Third date, huh.”

  
“Shut the fuck up.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next Friday was surprisingly more relaxed and chill than their… not-dates before that. It might have been because they met up at three in the afternoon for a pizza, popcorn and a movie instead of… that a little more intimate thing they had going on the last two times.

 

It was nice, Guzma found. Just lazing around on the sofa, nursing a slice of pizza, a soda and his sore muscles, riffing on the movie they were watching with Molayne and occasionally throwing a bean or a slice of pepperoni at Golisopod. 

 

“Are you sure it’s healthy for him to eat pepperoni?” Molayne asked at some point.

 

“Sometimes he eats literal garbage and he hasn’t still keeled over,” Guzma shrugged.

 

Molayne blinked. “W-wow… that’s a stomach of iron.”

 

“A-yup.” Guzma flicked a pepperoni towards Golisopod, but it failed to snatch it mid-air and the slice landed on Molayne’s Metagross, who didn’t look too happy with it. Golisopod whirred worriedly and inched closer to it, before swiping the pepperoni off and eating it.

  
“So what are we watching today?” Guzma asked, leaning back and stretching an arm on the backrest of the sofa.

 

“ _ Two Roses _ . It’s relatively new, came out just last year. It’s a thriller and it’s really good, according to the internet. Brycen and Diantha are in it.”

 

Guzma frowned. “Didn’t he quit acting?”

 

Molayne clicked play and the opening logos and credits started rolling. “Brycen? They got back into it like… three years ago? Maybe? They don’t do their own stunts anymore, though.”

 

“Huh.”

 

The movie started and a blue-haired woman was on the screen, dressed in a modest cardigan. She looked very familiar…

 

“Wait, is  _ that _ him?!” Guzma gaped, “Is that Brycen?”

 

“Yeah. They came out as genderfluid soon after they got back into acting.”

 

Guzma nodded slowly. “Oh. I think one of my grunts is like that, too.”

 

Molayne hummed and shifted, making Guzma realize that with Guzma’s arm draped over the backrest, Molayne was almost snuggled against him. Carefully he moved his arm so it was closer to Molayne, hoping that the other wouldn’t notice.

 

The movie went on and the main character turned out to be kind of a sleazy detective who was investigating the cat burglar who was going to steal the unique, immeasurably valuable diamonds from a museum (and foolishly sent out a boasting threat to the museum about doing so). All the while trying to get into the pants of two different women, played by Brycen and Diantha. 

 

Diantha was playing an obvious femme fatale in a woman who just happened to be visiting the museum and Brycen was playing a mousy museum employee, which Guzma found weird. After playing kung fu heroes in countless movies, he-  _ they _ were playing a simple museum employee?

 

The main character continued chasing both of the women, despite both of them clearly disliking him. The narration called it “playing hard to get”, which Guzma scoffed at.

 

“The chicks don’t want the d, bro. Just accept the L.”

 

Molayne giggled. His hair brushed on Guzma’s arm and set Guzma’s skin tingling.

 

There was a long, lingering shot on Brycen that rotated around their body sensually.

 

“I never realized how hot Brycen is,” Guzma said, “Like, they could crush my head between their thighs and I wouldn't even mind.”

 

“I agree,” Molayne sighed, “I want them to take me to a luxurious dinner in a five-star restaurant and take me to their hotel room and slowly make gentle love to me on silk sheets.”

 

Guzma guffawed. “Wow, Molayne! Just wow. I never expected you to be a freaky man.”

 

Molayne laughed. “Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to keep.”

 

“Phsaw! Can't be a good reputation to begin with when you're dating the ex leader of Team Skull,” Guzma snorted and immediately froze.

 

Molayne’s ears were redder than usual. “If… if we even get there,” he muttered.

 

Guzma cleared his throat and his arm slipped from the backrest to Molayne’s shoulders. “Y-yeah…”

 

They fell silent as they focused back to the movie. It was nearing the climax and there were more action scenes than lines exchanged. Diantha’s character turned out to be the burglar trying to steal the diamond, to no one’s surprise. Even Brycen’s character got some action when the diamond flew out of the burglar’s hands and to the museum employee’s.

 

For a split second, she looked like a deer in the headlights before she ran off into the maze of the museum's archives, closely followed by the detective and the burglar. After reaching a secluded corner, she stopped, turning to face the two.

 

“Come on, sugar, give me the diamonds,” the detective said.

 

The museum employee still had the deer-in-the-headlights look before she smirked. She reached into her cardigan and pulled out a small pistol.

 

“YO WHAT!” Guzma exclaimed, startling Golisopod and Megagross who had dozed off.

 

Molayne hushed him, leaning into him.

 

In the screen, the burglar sauntered over to the museum employee and wrapped an arm around her, caressing her cheek.

 

“Yooooooooo,” Guzma breathed.

 

The burglars explained that they were going to sell the diamonds, disappear and start a new comfortable life somewhere they could live peacefully together.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” the detective asked.

 

“Because you won't tell anyone,” the burglar said.

 

The detective scoffed. “And why do you think I-”

 

_ BANG!! _

 

The museum employee had pulled the trigger and shot the detective.

 

“YO!!!” Guzma hollered.

 

The last shot of the movie was the two women sharing a tender kiss.

 

“Yo!” Guzma repeated. “Bitch!”

 

“Bitch,” Molayne agreed, just as astonished.

 

“Lesbian plot twist!”

 

“No wonder this movie was so popular,” Molayne marveled.

 

The two at in silence, taking in the lesbian plot twist. After the reverie wore off, Guzma felt like catching up on Brycen’s work.

 

“What other movies has Brycen done?” Guzma asked.

 

“Oh,” Molayne hummed. “I don’t know? Many, I’m sure. They were really busy for a while right after getting back into acting. I can look them up, if you want.”

 

“Yeah,” Guzma nodded, “I’m interested in seeing more of them. Diantha too.”

 

“T-together?” Molayne asked.

 

Guzma frowned in confusion. “Have they done any other movies together?”

 

“N-no, I meant… W-we could watch them together… if you want…” Molayne was red as a tamato.

 

“Obviously,” Guzma grinned and ruffled Molayne’s hair. “I liked this and I want to do it again.”

 

Molayne smiled, cheeks still flushed. “I… I just had to make sure.”

 

Guzma hummed, noticing how close they still were, with Molayne snuggled to Guzma’s side and Guzma’s arm around Molayne. Guzma was close enough to see the blue flecks in Molayne’s eyes.

 

Molayne looked up at him, eyes flickering down to Guzma’s lips, then away. The movement was fast, but not fast enough for Guzma to miss it.

 

From a momentary impulse, Guzma stooped his head and kissed Molayne’s cheek.

 

Molayne sputtered and blushed more. “Th-thank you.”

 

Guzma grinned widely. “You’re welcome.”

 

So their movie afternoons became a habit for the two of them. They met up one or two times a week to slowly watch through Diantha and Brycen’s filmographies. Every movie was spent by gentle riffing and cuddling on the sofa. Guzma found he enjoyed all of it, especially the comforting weight of Molayne sprawled across his chest and stomach.

 

During one of their movie meetings they watched a quiet and slow indie film Diantha was in. Guzma thought the movie was boring, so he wasn’t paying attention. His hand moved absently, rubbing circles on Molayne’s back. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy, with the rough training with Hala weighing his muscles. So he allowed to let his eyes slip closed. He told himself he was still paying attention to the movie and he was just resting his eyes.

 

Slowly, the movie’s soundscape turned… intense. Guzma heard yelling that suspiciously sounded like his dad.

 

“What is  _ wrong _ with you?!”

 

Guzma ground his teeth and his brow furrowed, bracing for impact. It never came, but the yelling continued.

 

“What is wrong with you, Guzma??”

 

“Guzma!”

 

Guzma jolted awake, swinging his arm. It made contact with something that grunted. Guzma blinked, realizing he had fallen asleep. Molayne was above him, holding Guzma’s arm. Guzma realized he had hit him in the chest with his flailing.

 

Guzma’s blood froze in his veins. He had hit Molayne.

 

“Are you okay?” Molayne asked, despite the slightly pained expression on his face.

 

_ He had hit Molayne. _

 

Guzma stood up, shaking Molayne off of him and striding to the door of Molayne’s apartment, followed by Golisopod who was making worried whirrs.

 

“Guzma?” Molayne followed him, “What happened?” He looked like he wanted to stop Guzma, but Golisopod was blocking him.

 

Golisopod, bless its insect heart, grabbed Guzma and swung him away from the door and to Molayne. It gave two decisive chirps, as if to say “there, good.”

 

Guzma looked like he still wanted to run.

 

“I just want an explanation,” Molayne said quietly, despair and tears shining in his eyes, “Was it something that I did?”

 

“Wh- no! I… That’s not…” Guzma groaned and rubbed at his scalp, messing his already messy hair.

 

_ What is  _ wrong _ with you?! _

 

“I hit you,” Guzma finally muttered, clenching some hair in his fists.

 

Guzma felt Molayne’s hands gently tugging his hands out of his hair. “Yeah, but you didn’t mean it, right?”

 

“Of course I didn’t, but that’s not the point!”

 

Molayne laced their fingers loosely, allowing Guzma to pull away if he wanted. “What happened? Start from the beginning. I want to understand.”

 

Guzma sighed and his shoulders drooped. “Beginning?”

 

“I-I mean… as beginning as you want,” Molayne hastily added.

 

Guzma pursed his lips. “I fell asleep… and had a nightmare.”

 

Molayne nodded. “And I tried to wake you up and I startled you.”

 

“I hurt you,” Guzma muttered.

 

“You didn’t mean it, did you?”

 

Guzma muttered something, and Molayne stepped closer to him. “What was that?”

 

“What if I do it again?!” Guzma snapped, loudly enough to startle Molayne.

 

Molayne’s eyes were wide and Guzma felt terrible. First he had hurt him, now he was scaring him.

 

“I… I’m terrible, Molayne,” Guzma whispered, voice breaking, “You’re better… I can’t risk hurting you again.”

 

“No, no,” Molayne said, reaching out to cup Guzma’s face, “You’re not terrible, you’ve just… had a rough time. Very long rough time.”

 

“You deserve someone better than me,” Guzma said, avoiding Molayne’s eyes.

 

Molayne gaped. “How can you  _ say _ that?” he breathed, tears shining in his eyes, “After all these years I’ve missed you and worried for you… And you come back into my life and we think we… that… we could have something.” Molayne sniffled and rubbed his eyes. “Guzma, please…”

 

“I’m damaged,” Guzma muttered, “Not much I can do about it.”

  
“Y-you’re not… you’re not damaged, don’t say that,” Molayne pleaded.

 

“But I am!” Guzma snapped, “My old man was right the whole time!”

 

Molayne flinched but didn’t back off. “You… I…” He shook his head and pulled Guzma into a hug, which Guzma reluctantly accepted with little struggle.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” Guzma muttered, voice shaking.

 

“You can do something about it, though,” Molayne whispered, rubbing Guzma’s back.

 

Guzma scoffed. “Like what?”

 

“Talk to someone. A professional. Work through your emotional baggage safely with them.”

 

Guzma grumbled. “I don’t need a shrink.”

 

“Could you at least try? I could look one up for you.” Molayne pulled away to look at him. “Please?”

 

Guzma made a disgruntled sound. Either he went to the shrink or he couldn’t meet Molayne again. He didn’t like either of those options. “I’ll think about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not happy with the pacing in this chapter but I just want it DONE already.


	4. Chapter 4

“How’d it go?” Plumeria asked later that night, idly applying a fresh coat of nail polish on her nails.

 

Guzma groaned into his pillow.

 

“Bad? But you were good last week? What happened?” Plumeria pushed on.

 

Guzma rolled onto his back and groaned again. “I hit him.”

 

Plumeria hummed, inspecting her work. “That’s not good. Did he deserve it?”

 

“Wh-” Guzma sat up and glared at her. “Of course not! What the hell, Plums!”

 

Plumeria shrugged. “Why’d you do that, then?”

 

“It was a fucking accident, okay! I fell asleep and… I kinda… had a weird dream.”

 

“A nightmare?” Plumeria guessed, shifting through her selection of nail stencils or whatever the fuck those were called.

 

“Hell no! I don’t get nightmares!!” Guzma drew his knees to his chest and grumbled. “It was just a  _ really weird _ dream.” He shrugged. “So he, like woke me up and that caught me off-guard or whatever and I… didn’t think…”

 

“How’d he react?”

 

“He… I guess he was worried? He was like ‘are you okay’ like I just hadn’t smacked him in the chest.”

 

“Mm-hm.”

 

“And like. I was boutta haul ass outta there. I didn’t wanna hurt him more, y’know?

 

“So what’d you do?”

 

“I left!” Guzma threw his hands up. “Or… fucking  _ tried _ . Big G was in the way.”

 

“What then?”

 

“He wanted to know what happened, so I explained. And he… told me to see a shrink or something.”

 

“Did he give you a number?”

 

“He texted me that later.”

 

Plumeria hummed and shook her hands to make the polish dry faster. She then grabbed Guzma’s phone, unlocked it and started tapping at it.

  
“Yo what the fuck, girl?” Guzma asked without any real heat, “You can’t just dig through people’s pho-”

 

Plumeria lifted the device to her ear.

 

“Wait, are you  _ calling them?! _ What the  _ fuck _ , Plums?!?” Guzma would have tried wrangling the phone from her but he was too  _ sore _ for that. Besides, if he fucked up Plumeria’s freshly applied nail polish, his body would be found around Alola’s sunny islands in gory pieces.

 

“ _ You’re _ not going to get an appointment, so  _ someone  _ has to- hello, is this Harrison?” The person at the other end must have picked up. “Good. Do you think I could get an appointment for a friend?” Pause. “That’s fine, that makes sense. I’ll pass the phone to him, is that okay?” She then gave the phone back to Guzma.

 

“Tapudammit, Plums,” Guzma grunted, but accepted the phone. “Yo,” he said, trying to play it cool.

 

“Hello,” a friendly voice replied at the end of the line. Guzma could hear the smile in his voice. “This is the friend, I’m assuming?”

 

“Uh… yeah. That’s me.”

 

“Good, good,” there was a sound of shifting papers. “Before we decide on anything, I want you to know that you don’t have to get an appointment  _ now _ . I don’t want you to feel pressured to meeting me and like you had no choice in this.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“So I want you to think about this. As long as you need. You don’t have to book anything right now.”

 

Guzma glanced at Plumeria. The shrink said that, but the way Plumeria was looking at him said something else. Guzma sighed. “‘s fine, yo. Get me an appointment, my dude.”

 

“Alrighty. I have some open spots on… Friday and Tuesday, it seems.”

 

Friday wouldn’t do, obviously. “Tuesday’s fine.”

 

“Okidoki. Tuesday at one PM?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Sounds great.”

 

“Great,” Harrison repeated. “My office is at Ula’ula Island in Malie City. It’s in front of the library, so you shouldn’t get lost looking for it. Ask for Harrison at the reception. That’s me, by the way. I didn’t get your name…?”

 

“‘s Guzma.”

 

“Alright,” Harrison said slowly in that way people usually talk when they’re writing something down, “Tuesday, one PM appointment with Guzma. Got it.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Was there anything else I can help you with?”

 

“That’s all for now, I think…”

 

“Alright. We’ll figure the rest out when we meet. Thank you for calling, Guzma.”

 

Guzma grunted. It wasn’t  _ him _ who called.

 

“I’ll see you on Tuesday at one PM, then.” Harrison was still smiling.

 

Guzma grunted again. “Yeah, sure.” He hung up and glared at Plumeria. “I hate you.”

 

Plumeria shrugged. “I’ll live.”

 

***

 

So Guzma wandered to Malie City on Tuesday, at midday. He found the office fairly easily and he ended up being fifteen minutes early. He got into the building before he could change his mind and sauntered over to the receptionist. Guzma remembered the incident with the Hokulani observatory receptionist and he prepared for another chilly attitude.

 

“I’m here to meet Harrison,” he said simply.

 

The receptionist took in Guzma’s appearance, then his words seemed to sink in and they looked slightly surprised. They quickly corrected themself and smiled. “Of course.” They looked at their tablet computer and tapped at it. “One PM appointment?”

 

“Ya.”

 

“Harrison doesn’t have a patient at the moment but he still might be eating lunch. He’s in the first office on the right. Go and see if he’s done eating.”

 

Guzma blinked, both at the warm-ish(?) reception and at how the receptionist told him to basically interrupt someone’s lunch. But he still made his way towards the corridor. As the receptionist had said, the first door on the right had a small sign that said:  _ Harrison Hirsch, therapist _ with some buttons and lights. Guzma ignored them and knocked.

 

“Come in!” a voice called out from behind the door. Guzma recognized the voice as Harrison’s, so he opened the door and stepped in.

 

The room was… kinda cosy. There was a plush, pastel yellow, two-seated sofa against one wall. The window was framed with matching pale yellow curtains and there was some basic- ass minimalist paintings with the same color scheme on the walls. In front of the sofa was a desk with a laptop, a mug with pens in it, a box of tissues, and blank sheets of paper on it. Behind the desk was… Kukui?

 

“You must be Guzma,” Kukui said with a smile, standing up from his seat.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ??” Guzma blurted.

 

Kukui’s smile shrank a little and he looked slightly startled. “I’m sorry? Is there something wrong?”

 

Guzma stared at him, slowly realizing that this was not Kukui, just some poor fucker who looked like him. First of all, this person was wearing a  _ shirt _ . Second of all, he was a little more fat and had a longer face and his hair was reddish-brown.

 

Guzma narrowed his eyes. “You’re not Kukui,” he said slowly.

 

Not-Kukui laughed. “No, I am not. I get that a lot, though. You’re far from the first person who’s mistaken me for him. I really should stop wearing my hair in a ponytail, I suppose. Please sit down.” He motioned towards the sofa.

 

Guzma sat down and Not-Kukui (Harrison, Guzma assumed) sat on the chair behind the desk. “We talked on the phone a few days ago. I’m Harrison.”

 

“I remember.”

 

Harrison waited until Guzma got comfortable with his hands on the table, resting on a notepad. Once Guzma stopped moving, he started speaking. “So… what can I help you with?”

 

Guzma blinked. He hadn’t expected that question.

 

Harrison seemed to sense his hesitance. “I can help with depression, anxiety, anger issues, PTS-”

 

“Anger issues,” Guzma interrupted, “I guess.”

 

Harrison nodded and he turned to dig at the desk’s drawers. He pulled out some sheets of paper and gave them to Guzma. “Could you fill these for me, please?”

 

Guzma took the sheets and looked at them. One was titled “depression screening”, There were similar sheets for OCD, PTSD and anger management.

 

“I don’t usually diagnose my patients,” Harrison said, giving Guzma a pen, “But I know how much courage coming here must have taken so I’m not going to send you to a psychiatrist first since coming here.”

 

Guzma grunted and started filling.

 

“Fill them based on your mood for the last three months. If you’re between two choices, take the one based on your worst days,” Harrison instructed.

 

Guzma looked over the questions and answered them without giving them much thought. He just wanted the quizzes to be done with. As one questionnaire was filled, he gave them to Harrison who read them as Guzma filled the rest.

 

In ten minutes Guzma filled all papers and Harrison read them with a small frown. “Well,” he finally said with a slightly crooked smile, “You  _ don’t  _ have OCD.”

 

Guzma stared at him. “...but...?”

 

“According to your answers, you were right with the anger issues, but you also seem to have some traits of PTSD and depression.”

 

_ PTSD? How the fu- _ Guzma’s chest felt cold as he remembered Ultra Space and the jingling sound the nihilegos made.

 

“But there’s only so much a piece of paper can tell. We can figure out if that’s correct together,” Harrison said, a friendly smile back on his face.

 

Guzma crossed his arms and said nothing. A nasty feeling was starting to dawn on him, like he didn’t know what he was getting into.

 

Harrison waited for him to say something, but when Guzma was quiet, he said softly: “Let’s start from the beginning. Tell me about your childhood.”

 

Guzma winced and hissed.

 

***

 

“You’re late,” Hala said when Guzma finally made it to Iki Town at 2:40 PM.

 

Guzma grunted and waved a listless hand. He was  _ exhausted _ from the appointment with Harrison and he  _ really _ didn’t feel like training with Hala, but the old fart would pummel him to dust if he skipped.

 

Hala drew a breath as if to start lecturing him, but paused. He stared at Guzma with narrowed (...more narrowed than normal, that is) eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“Nothin’,” Guzma muttered, “Just tired, ‘s all.”

 

Hala gave him another long look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Guzma suppressed a groan.  _ More _ talk about  _ feelings _ was the last thing he needed! “I  _ just  _ finished doing that for 45 minutes,” he said, “I didn’t expect it to be so tiring, let’s just get to the training.”

 

“Wait wait wait,” Hala said, holding a hand up. “ _ Talking? _ You  _ talked _ to someone? And that exhausted you?”

 

“Well yeah!” Guzma shrugged, “I had no idea that lovey-dovey talk about  _ feelings _ or whatever the fuck would exhaust me this much?”

 

Hala frowned in confusion. “Were you talking to a psychologist? Or a therapist?”

 

“Fucking… yeah. I guess? One of those?”

 

Hala nodded slowly and crossed his arms.

 

His silence unnerved Guzma. “So yeah, I’m seeing a fucking shrink now, so fucking what?!”

 

Hala strode over to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “You should have told me. Go home, Guzma.”

 

“Wh-” Guzma straightened his back. “What the fuck, man?! After I came all the way here??”

 

“I know,” Hala interrupted, grasping Guzma’s other shoulder too, “And I’m sorry for dragging you here. I didn’t know you had an appointment. Go home and rest. We’ll train tomorrow.”

 

Guzma groaned and sighed. “Fucking fine…”

 

Hala nodded and smiled, clapping both of Guzma’s shoulders. “I’m proud of you for taking that step.”

 

Guzma’s breath hitched and his chest felt tight and hot. That heat quickly rose to his neck and face. He started to sputter, trying to dredge words from his brain. “Whatever” and “fuck off” came to mind.

 

“Wh-what off, man,” he grunted, swatting Hala’s hands off of him.

 

_ Nailed it. _

 

Hala’s smile widened just a little. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Guzma let out an irritated “pshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” and walked out of Iki Town to call a Charizard Glide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what to do with the fic from now on...
> 
> Also Harrison is an OC who existed before I started writing this fic (or even before Sun and Moon were announced, I think?) and who accidentally ended up looking like Kukui. He's my go-to OC for a therapist character lol. Here's a pic of him: https://wecantalkabout-it.tumblr.com/post/151482918210/having-a-few-drinks-at-my-favorite-bar
> 
> I have no idea if there's like. Paper tests for PTSD or anger issues but like... suspend your disbelief a lil here ok? I know you're not reading this for medical accuracy.


End file.
